Leaving Padfoot
by StagPatronus317
Summary: This is about the night of 31st October 1981 when Sirius Black went to Godric's Hollow and found James Potter dead.


The fork fell with a clutter to the ground.

Sirius Black did not pick it up. In fact he had not noticed that something clutched fiercely in his right hand a second ago, was not there. His mind seemed to be a million miles away from the dark, cold kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

Sirius was feeling a little uncomfortable. He didn't know what, but something was bothering him and he was getting really anxious. He could take it no longer.

He got up, kicked back his chair, and ran to the fireplace. He plunged his hand into the pot of Floo powder, scooped up a handful, and entered the fire.

"16 Charing Cross Road!" he cried and instantly vanished.

A second later he appeared in the fireplace of Peter Pettigrew's house and walked out into the small, clustered living room. He looked round. Peter was not there. Sirius hurried towards the kitchen, poked his head in and called "Peter!" He jogged round the house, his heart beating rapidly, looking in every room for the small figure of Peter Pettigrew.

"Peter! Peter! Peter!" he shouted, his voice muffled by the fear building in him. He was not there. Had he been found? Had he been taken by the Death Eaters? But no one except Peter, James, Lily and himself knew about the switch. Everyone thought Sirius was Secret-Keeper. Why would they go after Peter?

Sirius noticed something, something that bugged him more than any other thought that had struck his mind tonight. The house was in perfect condition. All was calm. He looked out of the window. The sky was clear. Of course, he hadn't been looking for clouds. There was no large skull in the black night to suggest that something had happened here. The Death Eaters had never bothered about leaving no traces when they killed. It was their aim to spread terror. They took pleasure in letting everyone know that they were at large. It was their idea of fun.

Then the most horrible thought crossed his mind. He would never have believed this a while ago, but now, there seemed no other explanation. Even as he thought about it, his brain sub-consciously searched for some other theory as to why things were the way they were. But nothing came, and Sirius groaned. He swore so loud and angrily kicked a chair in front of him. Its spindly legs came off.

Had Peter crossed over? Had he betrayed him? Had he given Voldemort the secret? Were James, Lily and Harry in danger?

He ran to the fireplace, grabbed some Floo powder from the pot and shouted "Number 12 Grimmauld Place!" He couldn't go to Godric's Hollow from here, as Dumbledore had disconnected their house from the Floo network as an extra precaution.

He crawled out of the fireplace back into the kitchen. He went straight to the hallway and out of the front door into the cool, starry night. With a flick of his wand, his flying motorbike was at his side. He jumped into the seat, kicked it to life and was in the air, soaring over Grimmauld Place.

Fear surged through his body. His face was contorted with fury. His hands were trembling. He concentrated on a single prayer: Prongs, hang in there, please!

Sirius bent low and went into a dive. He landed smoothly on the unkempt patch of grass in front of the Potters' residence. He leaped out of his seat, flung his helmet across. It landed in the sidecar with a dull thud.

One glance at the front door confirmed his worst fears. Tears were pouring down his cheeks into his shaggy beard. Sirius never cried. Not when he'd been isolated from his entire family all those years. Not when he'd been stuck in that house which he hated with all his heart. Not when he'd been away from James, Remus and Peter and the rest of his life every summer.

He walked up slowly to the door. It was hanging loosely on its hinges, as if someone had placed it within the frame without bothering to fix it properly. He put a hand on the door handle and it fell backwards to reveal the Potters' living room. That was all it took for Sirius Black to break down. He sank to the floor, his face flooding with tears. He couldn't believe it - he didn't want to believe it.

James Potter lay dead on the floor in front of him.

His best friend, his brother, his everything, was curled up on the cold marble, still as a statue. He crawled over to him, placed a hand on James's chest. He couldn't feel that heart. It had stopped beating. James was gone. Gone to a place where Sirius could not reach him. And he threw back his head, wailing like a child. Eyes closed, tears continued to pour down his cheeks as he grieved for James.

A loud thumping on the stairs brought him back to reality. He lifted his head off James's chest where it had been resting for a while. He saw the shadow of a huge figure approaching. He drew out his wand, then realised it was Rubeus Hagrid carrying a bundle of clothes in his arms. He put down his wand and walked straight towards the bundle of clothes which he knew to be his godson, Harry. He reached out for him and took him in his arms. Harry looked into his godfather's eyes. He saw the tears and wondered why they were there. Sirius stoked his hair and his finger brushed across something rough on Harry's forehead. There was a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. Being the knowledgeable man he was, Sirius assumed it was a curse scar. Harry will have that forever, he thought. Harry's fingers played with Sirius's hair. He enjoyed the feel of the smooth texture of his godfather's hair.

Hagrid nervously pulled Harry out Sirius's arms. Sirius looked at him in surprise.

"Give him to me, I'm his godfather. I'll look after him," Sirius said.

"Sorry, I can't. Got me orders from Professor Dumbledore. He said Harry's ter go ter his aunt an' uncle."

"Hagrid! How can you give him to them? They hate James and Lily. How do you think they'll treat him? No, Harry can't stay there!"

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore musta had him reasons fer sayin' so."

Sirius opened his mouth to protest further but knew it was pointless. Hagrid wasn't one to disobey orders from Albus Dumbledore.

"Here, take my bike. It'll help you get there," he said.

Hagrid patted Sirius on the shoulder, a pat which nearly knocked him to the ground, and walked out. Harry was staring at Sirius with a look of fear. Sirius tool a last look at him and when they had disappeared out of view, he turned back to James.

James who wouldn't wake. James who lay there motionless and would continue to do so. And all those memories came rushing back to him. In that one moment Sirius relived every second spent with James. It was then that he finally acknowledged the truth – finally accepted that he'd never see James again. That he'd never hear his voice. That he'd never see him laugh. That they would never do anything together again.

And that never again would Padfoot run with Prongs.


End file.
